


Of Starlight and the Dark

by Aspect of Starlight (Written_In_Blue_Ink)



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Allegiance Quest, Angst, DPDR, Dead Cayde-6, Depression, Grief/Mourning, Joker's Wild, Multi, Other, PTSD, Season of the Drifter, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, conflicted feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-02-10 09:44:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18657919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Written_In_Blue_Ink/pseuds/Aspect%20of%20Starlight
Summary: In the wake of Cayde’s death, Albireo finds themself questioning where their future lies and struggling with their inner demons. The Drifter offers them a mutually beneficial partnership and a chance to be more than a Guardian. But the line between Light and Dark is a narrow path to tread.





	1. A New Frontier

**Author's Note:**

> I started this fic to be a one shot PWP fic with the Drifter and my Guardian, Albireo, but the characters took things in a different direction. I’ve found myself wondering about the real mental state of The Guardian. I want to write a story about a hero who is struggling with the things they have seen and done, but are hopeful of a future where they can live at peace with them-self. I am writing some based on my own depression and anxiety struggles, but please let me know if I am off the mark with some of the things I am writing about. I want to be respectful of others while also conveying the real struggle that The Guardian is going through. Please make sure to check the tags before reading.

In the dim light of the Annex, Albireo flicked the safety of the Ace of Spades mindlessly.

_On. Off. On. Off._

What would Cayde think of their treatment of his beloved gun? Did it matter? Cayde couldn’t scold them for their careless fidgeting. 

Now there was no one to fuss over them, to scold them, to understand how all too human they were. Cayde always just seemed to know when something was bothering them. 

When the overwhelming thoughts started clawing into their brain, a well timed patrol request or strike would be passed their way. Not always from Cayde, but Albireo knew the Exo had a hand in its delivery regardless. That’s what a good partner did. 

But Albireo had never been able to return the favor.

_On. Off. On. Off._

And now here was the Hero of the red War, Hive’s Bane, Slayer of Oryx and Crota, Riven’s Bane, hiding from the world and disassociating from their reality for a few moments of peace. 

The sound of boots and voices drowned out the soothing click. The Warlock turned their attention briefly to the corridor below. Four Guardians walked through the corridor, unaware of Albireo’s spot in the darkness above. Mostly sequestered from the rest of the tower, the Annex offered plenty of places to hide and brood.

Decked in full Gambit gear, a Titan, two Warlocks, and a Hunter tramped through the dim hallway, laughing at their victory and preening over their newly won gear. The hidden Warlock’s looked on disdainfully. Ever since the Drifter had been moved to the Annex, the peacefulness of the mostly abandoned hallways had been broken. 

Not that Albireo held any resentment toward Drifter for the change. It was fortunate for him that the Vanguard had seemingly accepted his scam. Gambit was an interesting and challenging pastime, steadily growing in popularity. Certainly, the Warlock had spent many a hour banking motes and killing Primevals. 

It’s overseer however…

Drifter was as loud and obnoxious as Gambits participants, always ready with a sharp quip, just on the edge of being a dagger in the back. But so very cunning and analytical underneath his Gambit persona. 

_‘Word is, you and Cayde had a pretty good partnership.’_ The feeling of his hard black eyes on them had been nearly physical. The rouge might as well have asked outright about the rumors in the Tower that the two Guardians had been intimate, but Albireo had a feeling he already knew the truth about that. 

He’d had some good words of advice in that moment too, but Albireo had been too absorbed in their grief and rage to listen. Now they quietly reflected on it. 

_‘So go out on your terms - with a gun in your hand and loot in your pocket.’_ The near identical phrasing of something Cayde had said before his death shot through them like a hot poker. They remembered little of the rest of the exchange beyond that, too lost in the haze inside their brain. The Warlock had left with a piece of gear and an offer. 

A place to vent if needed? Albireo had vented much of their rage in Gambit, rending the Enemies of Humanity into scattered elemental matter. When one of the Barons proved too troublesome, Gambit armor and weapons opened the gates. 

The Crucible hadn’t been able to contain the fury and savageness of their grief, their rage. Too many question followed their matches. Too many whispers shared between their fellow Guardians. 

Drifter didn’t ask questions about their wellbeing or pry into their life. He made savage quips about the brutality the Warlock displayed, his words dark and lusting for violence. So different from the exuberance that Cayde had displayed while watching Albireo’s Crucible matches.

Cayde had his hard edges, his moments where the centuries of his lifetime had made him cold as steel. Those moments were offset by his softer, gentler side.

Drifter though… Warlock’s might be considered more book smart than people smart, but Albireo knew a scoundrel when they met one. There were things about Drifter that would probably give them nightmares. Secrets, dark and deep, that should never be discovered by anyone.

That still didn’t stop them from building a tentative rapport with the man. Despite his eccentricities, the man didn’t treat Albireo like a revered god-slaying hero. To him, they were just another Guardian to bring in the Motes. 

Albireo found it refreshing.

“Y’know, you could drive a fella insane with all that clicking,” said a voice from the shadows below. As if summoned by their thoughts, Drifter emerged from the shadows. 

_Click._

Albireo engaged the safety and holstered the Ace of Spade. In the darkness, the Warlock turned their glowing yellow gaze down to the man. 

“Should’a know it was you, hotshot,” he said, laughing to himself. “Yer creepin’ out my regulars.” 

Pushing off of the steel pipe ledge, the Warlock drifted slowly to the ground. Albireo cared little about creeping out his regulars. They were the ones intruding on the Warlock’s brooding spot after all. 

“The silent treatment, huh? Thought we had something good together,” Drifter put a hand over his heart, feigning hurt. 

A shrug met his statement. While the Warlock wasn’t mute, they’d never felt an overwhelming need to speak. Even from the beginning, it had been easy to let their Ghost speak for them. 

“Not much t’ say,” they said, dusting off their robes as nonchalantly as possible. The man’s eyes crinkled at the corners, a smug knowing look on his face. 

“With the way you were broodin’ up there?” he asked. His body shifted to the left, arms crossing. “Careful, you might wind up as bad as ol’ blue balls himself.”

A choked laugh escaped the Warlock. Bright golden eyes widened in surprise. 

“Shhst. You never know who’s listening,” Albireo said, glancing around for any eavesdroppers.

“Ya worried?” he asked, leaning over the Guardian with a leer. Clearly, he was joking, but Albireo paused to consider it. 

Maybe they were worried about the rouge Lightbearer? He’d been a focal point of their life since the death of Cayde after all and the Warlock held a sliver of respect for the man.

Albireo shrugged again. 

“Maybe, maybe not,” they said. “Maybe I just want to use you for my own gain, rogue.” 

Drifter laughed, throwing his head back in what Albireo might consider as genuine laughter. 

“That’s what I like about you, blood,” he said, calming down to just a chuckle. “Ya don’t say much but when you do ya don’t pussy foot around. You talk to your Vanguard like that?”

“If I wanted to anger Ikora,” they retorted. Her anger was legendary and Albireo hardly wanted to test her patience more than they already did. The last time they’d been candid with the Vanguard had been after Cayde’s death… 

Drifter laughed again, this time a low chuckle that hummed through the corridor. His keen eyes pierced like a dagger into Albireo’s very being when he stopped. A smirk curled his lips.

“How’s about you and me step into my office? I got a lil something for ya,” he said, spreading his hands and giving them a disarmingly boyish grin.

Albireo tilted their head, curiosity building. Waving him on, they let Drifter take the lead back down to his new Gambit situation. They ignored the way his head remained ever so slightly tilted to keep them in his peripheral.

The swirling mass of Darkness imprisoned inside of a thick glass cylinder lit the room with an eerie glow as they approached. From floor to ceiling, the Mote Bank cut an impressive presence. Goosebumps rose on the Warlock’s skin. 

Hot and cold at the same time, it never ceased to send a shiver down their spine. Not exactly an unpleasant feeling, Albireo admitted. Still, it was unsettling considering its source. 

Drifter stopped at the railing that separated them from the Bank. Albireo glanced around the room, but didn’t notice anything too out of the ordinary.

“Ya seen my ship, hotshot?” Drifter asked, breaking the silence. 

Obviously, they’d seen it during transmat in Gambit matches. The Warlock nodded even though the man had his back to them. Drifter turned around, his eyes crinkling with mirth.

“How’d ya like to see it in person?” He asked, smug and coy, like a cat toying with its prey.

They stilled. Drifter had never invited anyone up to his ship as far as they knew. Curiosity gnawed at Albireo; the one stereotypical Warlock trait that they had in spades. Even through the fear and uncertainty, that curiosity had always driven them forward. 

Perhaps it was because by Guardian standards they were still so young, or maybe it was something left from a past they no longer remembered. Knowledge was something that they hungered for. 

Whatever the reason, Albireo reached out to clasp hands with the rouge. His grin grew and then the feeling of their every cell being broken down and reassembled came.

When it was over, the dark innards of the Derelict greeted them. 

Albireo gently touched the pouch on their side, checking to make sure their Ghost, Cygnus, was still resting peacefully. It needed the rest considering how much healing and reviving they’d needed while pushing themselves in missions recently. 

“Welcome to the Derelict,” Drifter said, spreading his arms wide. 

Derelict was the right word for it. It seemed to be an older type of long-haul ship from what Albireo had seen of the outside. On the inside though... They’d transmatted into some kind of storage room. A circular table and some crates took up most of the area they were in. The metal grating creaked underneath their boots. Only a tattered red carpet underneath the table offered any sort of color in the room. 

Drifter’s boots dug into the red carpet as he approached the table. Albireo followed after, noticing something on the table. A lumpy bundle of emerald green cloth sat on the table tied together with a red braided cord. 

“You worked mighty hard for this, so I gave it a good spit ‘n polish for ya,” he said, carefully untying the cloth. A magnificent gun unlike any the Warlock had seen before glimmered in the dim light. From the detailed etchings to the intricately shaped barrel, the gun was a work of art. 

As if in a trance, the Warlock reached out to touch it…

“The Malfeasance,” Drifter said, presenting it fully to the entranced Guardian. “The first of its kind, but not the last.”

Albireo took the gun, feeling the heft of it in their hand, admiring the design. The same hot cold sensation from the Mote Bank washed over them. They were toeing on the edge of the Darkness.

A shiver raced down their spine. 

“Ya feel it don’tcha?” Drifter asked, a knowing look on his face. “Why not give it a spin.”

With a twist of his wrist, the rogue pulled a Mote of Darkness seemingly from thin air. The unearthly howl of a Taken echoed in the chamber. A chill washed over the Warlock. 

_Click._

With a flick of their thumb, the safety disengaged. Spinning around, Albireo faced the summoned Taken Captain. It lunged forward toward the Guardian, but they were faster. 

Fives shots fired from the the barrel, but there was something off about them. They looked almost like… Taken. The bullets pierced the Taken’s body and it staggered. Albireo prepared to fire again, but it’s whole body convulsed before imploding in a burst of Taken light. 

Albireo engaged the safety and peered warily at the gun.

“I guess I don’t gotta tell you this is a real bad gun, huh, hotshot,” he said, watching with hooded eyes as Albireo inspected the gun. “Try not to hurt yourself with it.”

The Warlock turned their gaze back to him and then let it trail down to the gun tucked into the front of his belt. Raising an eyebrow, they met Drifter’s gaze. 

“Now don’t be like that,” he retorted, patting the gun in question. “Here I am being concerned and this is what I get in return?”

His defensive statement made Albireo wonder if he actually had managed to shoot himself in the crotch before. It must have shown on their face as Drifter let out a “bah!” and tossed the cloth back onto the table. Sulkily, he moved to the other side of the table and sat down heavily in a rickety chair. 

Albireo examined the gun once more before wrapping it back up in the cloth. Later, they would stow it in their inventory. 

His eyes half-lidded, Drifter watched every move that the Guardian made as they carefully sat the wrapped gun down on the table. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. One might have called it fond, as fond as the rogue ever was of anyone. 

Cautiously, the Warlock also took a seat at the table despite their misgivings about the integrity of the chair. This seemed to be what Drifter was waiting for. He leaned forward, left arm resting on the table. 

“Now that we’ve forged a gun together, I feel that we’ve gotten closer,” he said, his smile changing into his more familiar boyish grin. “We understand each other a little better.”

Maybe that was a bit true, Albireo reflected. Drifter may be a madman at times, but the long process of assembling the gun had certainly taught them much about him. 

At the same time, they hardly knew anything at all. 

“Now, I know that the Vanguard has been poking around. Their… generosity comes at a price,” he continued on. His brow furrowed. “Couple’a my regulars are snitches. But that’s fine as long as they keep bringing in the Motes.”

Albireo nodded, unsurprised to learn that the Vanguard were keeping him under surveillance. Drifter’s eyes locked dead onto the Warlock’s, crows feet gathering around his eyes. The Warlock shrugged in response to his unspoken question.

“It’s not my style,” they said. “If I don’t like it, I shoot it.”

A savage, pleased grin replaced the hard look on Drifter’s face. Albireo felt another shiver at the look. 

“That you do, blood,” he said, his voice deeper and darker, so different from his boisterous Gambit persona. 

Albireo faltered for a moment. 

“Make no mistake. You’re part of my crew now,” he said, leaning back in his chair, smug and pleased with the turn of events. “You’ve got my back and I’ve got yours, blood. Trust.”

This meeting had been full of surprises, but Albireo really hadn’t expected this one. Part of Drifter’s crew? Presumptions of him to assume that they would join him. 

“Not really a team player,” they answered his unasked question. “I don’t have a good track record.”

“I told ya. Everyone’s got a bullet with their name on it. Ya can't stop it,” he said, suddenly serious. His voice became almost gentle. “Runnin’ with me is gonna put a bigger target on your back, but I’ll be there to watch it.”

What wasn’t already out to kill them? They'd killed a Hivegod or two, a Prince, a Cabal Dominus, several Kells, the last Ahamkara, and a variety of other important figures among the ranks of the Enemies of Humanity. 

“Have we got ourselves a deal?” Drifter asked, stretching out his hand.

Albireo hesitated for a moment. The ramification of this partnership wasn’t lost to them. The Vanguard had an eye on the rogue Lightbearer. Zavala would likely give them a lecture on Guardian decorum. Undoubtedly, it would start a slew of new rumors surrounding the Guardian. 

But even so… The Vanguard’s leash had felt more and more like a noose around the Warlock’s neck. Zavala’s lack of action after Cayde’s death, Ikora’s unwillingness to challenge his decision, the complacency with which the Guardians lived, it all sat wrong with Albireo. 

While they still felt a deep need to protect Humanity, Albireo wasn’t good at sitting around. Taking action was what they were best at after all. 

Determined, Albireo clasped hands with Drifter and shook on their new partnership. 

His grin in response was all teeth.


	2. Forge Ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albireo's allegiance to Drifter hasn't escaped notice. The mysterious Aunor seeks to dissuade them from their decision. The Drifter has own thoughts on the matter.

The day after the meeting on the Derelict a message arrived at Albireo’s quarters. There was no name attached and the courier had no idea who it was from. Albireo flipped the data card over, looking for some clue. Cygnus peered curiously over their shoulder.

“Who would be sending you anonymous messages now?” It asked, more of a musing than an actual question.

Albireo shrugged. They’d gotten some rather...interesting mail before, but it was usually accompanied by a gift or threat from someone who was trying to gain the Guardian’s favor or who’d fell to them in the Crucible. They held it out to the Ghost and let it scan the message inside. 

Cygnus stilled as it processed the message. Albireo plopped down onto their nest of pillows to wait for the message.

“This is… a Cormorant-Level Encrypted Message,” it said, twirling it’s shell thoughtfully. “From a Warlock named Aunor of the Praxic Order and… one of the Hidden.”

That was more than a bit curious. Albireo had been approached by many of the different factions and given offers to join. They’d joined none of them, preferring to live by their own ideals. But they’d never been approached by the Praxic Order.

“It’s a message about the Drifter…” It said, just as mystified as the Warlock. “What do they mean about business with Drifter?”

Ah, they’d forgotten about needing to fill their Ghost in. Albireo ruffled the fringe of their white hair sheepishly. 

“Al… what have you done?” It asked suspiciously. 

“Might’ve joined Drifter’s crew,” Albireo answered, wondering if this was what it was like to be scolded by a parent. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Cygnus asked, caught somewhere between incredulous and long suffering. “And you didn’t think to talk to me first?”

Albireo spread their hands out in front of them placatingly. They’d made their choice much like they always had by going with their instincts. 

“It felt right,” they said, turning away from Cygnus to stare out the window. Even their Ghost’s disapproval wouldn’t be enough to sway them. “And you were resting.”

A weary electronic sigh answered them. Cygnus should be used to it’s Guardian’s shenanigans by now. 

“I think you should read this Aunor’s message at least,” it said, transmitting the message to Albireo’s data pad. 

Picking up the data pad, Albireo scrolled through the message. As they read, their eyebrow arched higher and higher. This Aunor person was more than a bit presumptuous and arrogant. Annoyance sparked. After everything they’d done for the City and Humanity, this Warlock would just boil it down to wanting more power?

They’d dragged themself, newly revived, from Old Russian by the skin of their teeth and had been immediately thrown into service by the Vanguard. They’d faced death and Darkness for the City. They’d lost… him. 

They’d paid a high price for their service to the Vanguard in the few years since their resurrection. None of that suffering had been for their own gain. Everything had been for the CIty, for Humanity. 

Tossing the data pad down onto the table, Albireo leapt to their feet. Cygnus startled, drifting closer. That wild and angry look on their face was too similar to when they had taken the Tangled Shore by storm.

“Al?” It said, hesitating when the Guardian gave it a tight look. “I know you’re not like that.” 

It bumped gently into Albireo’s forehead, comforting it’s Guardian as best as it could. 

“I’ll support you. You’re my chosen one after all,” it said, nuzzling into their fluffy white hair. 

The tension in Albireo’s shoulders eased as they cupped their hands around Cygnus and took comfort in their one true friend. 

——

Three days after shaking on their partnership and two days after Aunor’s message, Drifter sent Albireo a message to join him on the Derelict. Whatever Albireo had expected of their new partnership, it wasn’t to be invited back for tea. 

Once again, they were back in the dim storage room, sitting at the well-worn table. In between them sat an ornate black tea pot, steam rising from it’s spout and filling the air with a rich and smoky scent.

Drifter sat across from them, his face partially obscured by the steam. Whatever his motivations were, Albireo couldn’t begin to guess. The message had only indicated that he wanted a chat, but there had to be more behind the invitation.

Now he sat silently, just staring. Albireo had a feeling that he wasn’t even really looking at _them_ per say. Something seemed to be on his mind. 

Suddenly, he sat forward. Albireo stilled, wondering if he would break the silence, but the rogue only lifted the kettle from the heat source to pour it into two cylindrical cups. Ceramic, not glass, they noted, glazed a beautiful green. The similar to the kind that Albireo had drank out of while eating ramen...

Shaking off the thought, Albireo accepted the cup passed to them and took a sip of the scalding tea. It had a strong smoky flavor to it that suited the man, though they’d never have guessed him for a tea type of man themself. He clearly had experience in the matter of brewing tea. His movements while brewing had been confident and practiced. 

“Ya like it?” Drifter asked, finally breaking the silence. 

Albireo took another sip, savoring the full smoky flavor. Finally, they nodded. 

At their hip in its pouch, Cygnus shifted nervously. Why it hadn’t simply concealed itself, Albireo wasn’t sure. Something about being safer close to its Guardian and about how Drifter’s Ghost was creepy. 

The silence dragged on and Albireo raised an eyebrow at Drifter. Why had they been called here? It couldn’t simply be for a tea party. 

“Can’t I just have a drink ‘n chat with my crew mate?” Drifter said in response. “Hand t’ my heart, I just wanna have a lil chat ‘n check up on ya.”

Guilt might have been what any other Guardian would have felt in that moment, but Albireo took a sip of their tea with a pointed look. The eyebrow went up higher. 

“How’s the gun treating ya?” Drifter asked, ignoring the pointed look. He’d likely had many pointer looks (and objects) directed at him anyway, so Albireo let the eyebrow drop.

Right to the heart of the matter then? The Warlock set the cup down and gave it some thought. They’d used the Malfeasance in Gambit matches only so far to avoid any scrutiny by the Vanguard. The message from Aunor indicated that someone was reporting all developments to them anyway, but Albireo didn’t want to be confronted about it in the open.

The gun tore through their enemies like it was nothing. Cabal, Vex, Taken, it didn’t matter the enemy. The frightening power contained within did not discriminate. And when it came time to invade the other team… Albireo had chewed through the other fire team. They’d had no idea what they were facing. Even if they missed the head, five shots made for an explosive end for each Guardian.

“You've seen my matches,” they replied, taking another sip of tea.

“No, no, no. How's it treating you?” He asked again. He leaned forward looking them dead in the eye. “This gun’s a culmination of a lotta things I been working on. See a long time ago, I set out to make a replacement for a gun called Thorn.”

Albireo perked up. Who didn't know about Thorn? There'd been a fair few replicas floating around before the Red War and recently it had started circulating again along with a few other unsavory weapons. 

“This is never going to be that, but to me, it’s better cause we built it together. Listen, hotshot, I wanted you t’ have this gun cause you’re gonna need it,” Drifter said, his face suddenly serious. More serious that Albireo had ever seen him get. “We’ve done a lot together, and I hope and pray we’ll get to do a lot more. But I’ve got a lot of enemies out there and now they’re yours too.”

There was a lot to unpack from that. Albireo found it touching that Drifter was putting that much effort into their well being. A soft heat suffused their body. The pleasant feeling of being cared for, even in such a roundabout way, was always nice. Only Cayde had ever really given them that feeling.

Drifter seemed to catch himself. He sat back and let his posture relax. Turning back to his persona to distance himself from the situation. 

“You’re not the only one I’ve got working on buildin’ the Malfeasance, but yours is the first,” he said, a crooked grin on his face. “All of us, the whole crew, with this in hand, even the Man with the Golden Gun should have pause.”

That made Albireo pause. Who didn’t know about the rogue Guardian, the Man with the Golden Gun? It didn’t surprise them much that he was after the Drifter. 

Drifter leaned forward, excited and dangerous. He banged a fist on the table. 

“Maybe we can’t out-shoot him, if he even can be out-shot. But if we all take our shot together? We don’t gotta out shoot him,” he said, a dark and savage grin on his face. “He’ll die, too.”

Silence filled the bay as Albireo considered his words. They tried to think of something to say. Albireo had been thrown for quite a loop. Nothing seemed appropriate for what felt like such a heartfelt dialogue. 

“I…” they said, almost feeling like there was a weight to this decision, like someone was judging them. “I’ll have your back when the day comes.”

The weight seemed to lift from the Warlock’s shoulders mentally, but somehow also a bit physically. The jagged pain that had haunted them softened just a fraction. Not a complete healing but it was a start. 

Drifter smiled and Albireo’s heart fluttered. Were they that desperate to be treated with care outside of their duties? Who besides Cayde had ever spoken about watching their back? Unease filled them, would they repeat the same mistake and lose another partner?

Drifter seemed to sense their unease. He refilled their cup and leaned forward expectantly. 

“I can see something’s botherin’ ya, kid,” he said, keeping his voice low, almost coaxing. “You can tell ol’ Drifter. We’re a team now.”

The Warlock stared down into the dark liquid. Their insecurities weren’t a burden that Drifter needed. Conveniently, they did have a different concern to raise with him. 

With a tap on Cygnus’s pouch, Albiero’s datapad transmatted into their hand. Silently, they passed it to Drifter with the messages from Aunor opened. 

They’d received two more messages since the first one. The whole ordeal was becoming a nuisance. Albireo much preferred when people were upfront with them and didn’t hide behind secret notes. 

Scanning each document, Drifter’s lightless eyes darted back and forth, brow furrowing. Finally, he passed the pad back and laughed, a mirthless sound. 

“Nothin’ I wasn’t expecting. Everyone wants a piece of the Drifter,” he said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “To be honest, I was expecting them to make their move sooner.”

Unsurprisingly, Drifter had been prepared for someone to start poking into his contacts. Since Albireo had been a regular in Gambit, they were likely high on the list and he had no doubt anticipated that. 

“Watcha gonna do?” He asked, his tone stayed easy-going, but his lightless eyes were hard. 

“I’m a Warlock. Too curious for my own good,” Albireo said, before taking a sip of their tea. “And I trust my gut.”

They looked him straight in the eyes. 

“I make my own decisions,” they said, firmly.

Understanding passed between them. Albireo would run with Drifter of their own accord and no one else’s. And if that trust was betrayed, their fury would be a furious storm. 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Drifter replied and finally took a sip of his own tea. His face twisted. “Damn, ’s cold.”

Albireo scoffed and the tension passed. 

“You got grit, hotshot. I can admire that you’re willing’ to risk the trust of everyone who’s ever been kind to ya. But lemme set the record straight - you’re choosin’ to walk with a monster,” Drifter continued on. “Monsters survive. People, priorities - those change. Stick with me, and you’ll see that.”

He stopped there, looking thoughtful, maybe a bit hesitant. Albireo contemplated his words. That inkling of there being a dark, deep secret held by the man came back. 

The moment passed and he was all smiles again.

“Now, as a symbol of our new partnership. I need an important favor from ya. Got a shipment waiting in the Tangled Shore,” he said, “Pick it up for me?” 

Albireo had a feeling this wasn’t just a favor. Drifter was attempting to get them to leave. Whatever that moment of hesitation was, it clearly wasn’t something the man wanted poked. 

Nodding, they agreed. Drifter grinned wider; though, it never quite reached his eyes.

“I'll tell the Spider you're comin'.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is going to be a bit heavy.


	3. Thin Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albireo hasn’t been back to the tangled shore since Uldren’s death. Their pain and grief is an overwhelming force, Sinking them back into their darkest thoughts. Thankfully Drifter knows how to deal with the Dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will contain mentions/depictions of PTSD and DPDR (Depersonalization/Derealization. Please make sure you are okay to read this before continuing.

As the Tangled Shore loomed on the horizon, Albireo could still barely grasp the turn of events that had led them back to the accursed place. Up until Cayde’s death, the Warlock had never really considered going against the will of the Vanguard in any way that mattered. Every act of defiance had always been in the interest of the Greater Good. 

At one time, they had been the Vanguard’s biggest supporter. They’d fought tooth and nail to get the three Vanguard leaders back together in the wake of the Cabal’s invasion. They’d nearly single-handedly retaken the City to restore the Vanguard’s order.

Now here they were getting entangled into the business of a man who was most certainly toeing the line with the Darkness. Something Ikora and Zavala would disapprove of. Would Albireo also come close to crossing that line? Perhaps they would become another fallen hero in the annals of the City’s history. 

Hero of the Red War - another title given to them by the Vanguard, by the City. Somehow they’d become a symbol of what a Guardian should be. Praised and revered by the City’s residents, by their fellow Guardians. 

It all rang hollow. Albireo wasn’t some kind of righteous hero. Awoken or not, they were all too human inside, foolish and selfish. Their mind was broken by the things they’d seen in the few short years of their rebirth. 

Cayde’s death had opened their eyes to the naivety of their life. It had shown just how tight of a leash the Vanguard kept on them. It had shown the Warlock just how little of themself existed outside of being a Guardian. 

Patrol, eat, rest, repeat. Intermittent world ending catastrophes broke the monotony. Cayde had been the only thing to look forward. The only thing that had truly kept their life from being empty.

The deep, aching hollowness that had come with his death festered like a wound. Nothing had sated it. Even Uldren’s death hadn’t truly mended it. Every time they saw Zavala or Ikora, that wound reopened just a bit. Their lack of action had cut deep. 

In the wake of Cayde’s death, Albireo had cursed the City. they had cursed themself form being a failure of a hero. 

They’d chosen to take their revenge; the City be damned. 

And now here they were, making another decision that set them at odds against the Vanguard. Albireo didn’t know exactly what Drifter was planning, but even so, they were willing to tread this path wherever it lead. They didn’t want to be held back anymore. 

“Not to interrupt your brooding, but we’ve reached the transmat point for Thieves’ Landing,” Cygnus said, gently. It was the only being who could truly understand how much the Guardian was hurting inside. 

Shaking form their thoughts, Albireo nodded and unstrapped themself from the pilot’s seat. Pulling on their helmet, the Guardian signaled their readiness. With an electronic sigh, the Ghost transmatted them to the underground cavern’s transmat point. 

————

Thieves’ Landing hadn’t changed much since the last time they’d dropped in. A few Fallen peered cautiously out of their vantage points, but Albireo paid them little attention. The Ace of Spades holstered at their hip was a clear enough sign to stay out of their way. 

_[I wonder what it is that Drifter needs from the Spider,]_ Cygnus said over the comm. The Ghost had already concealed itself, not that Albireo blamed it. The Spider’s fixation with Ghosts (and their dead shells) was disturbing even for them. 

“His lunch, seems like,” Albireo answered, thinking back on his request that they pick up “the Jerky” from the Fallen moblord. “Hope it’s not Hive.”

Cygnus didn’t laugh. It wasn’t much of a joke considering Drifter had made his unusual diet clear. Very little smelled as atrocious as Hive guts and Albireo would not appreciate it contaminating their ship.

Slipping through the pile of Fallen machinery concealing the door to the Spider’s lair, Albireo waited for their presence to be noticed and for the door to open. After a few seconds, it slid open with a hiss. 

They’d walked through the dimly lit corridor many times during their time in the Tangled Shore. The Spider had been a welcome ally during that time, but Albireo hadn’t been back since Uldren’s death. It had been too much of a reminder of Cayde’s death.

“Ah, welcome, my friend,” The Spider’s voice boomed from the chamber as Albireo stepped inside. Deja vu washed over them at the sight of the Fallen sitting surrounded by Ghost shells. As if they’d become a mere spectator, they could see themself walking into the chamber as they were months ago. That feeling of anger and grief rushed back over them. 

“I’ve already gotten word of your visit. It seems the storied hero of the Red War, the rumored princekiller is now working as a mule for the likes of the Drifter,” Spider said, leaning back in his seat, Ghost shells scattering. “My, my, how the mighty have fallen, I do hope you know everything about your new friend’s enemies.”

He fell silent for a moment. The resurfacing anger burned in Albireo’s veins, but their body language remained as impassive as ever. Heart racing, they fought to maintain control, but it was so easy to fall back into the grief and anger.

“You… did ask him about all that, didn’t you?” He asked, almost amused. 

The silence dragged on. Albireo was back to the same person they had been on their first encounter, consumed by the anger and grief again. All the progress they’d made unraveled before them.

The Spider seemed to sense the change and sobered. He waved one of his hands at a nearby Fallen. It scuttled away to another room before coming back with an item.

Albireo watched impassively as it was presented to them. The item looked like a Fallen communication device more than a food item. They turned to look back up at the moblord. 

“I believe you’ll find that this is what your… friend is seeking,” he said, watching keenly as Albireo reached for the device. “Since you are a valued customer, I’ll give it to you for a mere 50,000 glimmer.”

Hand halfway to the device, Albireo paused and turned to look at the Spider. They had more than enough funds to cover it, but the Fallen had to be joking. 

The Spider chuckled, likely guessing their thoughts. 

“Information is a valuable commodity, my dear,” he said, idly caressing one of the Ghost shells in his collection. “I still have a business to run.”

“40,000,” Albireo said, voice raw and grating. 

The Spider paused. He turned his attention back to the Guardian. 

“I’m afraid I can’t go below 50,000, even for you,” he said, but his eyes glittered with interest. His interactions with the Warlock had been mostly done through short, terse answers or Petra. This was new.

“40,000,” they replied, voice hard now. 

“45,000 as a favor to a friend,” The Spider said, curious to see how this would develop. 

Albireo’s mind was a swirl of anger and grief and annoyance. Clearly, the Drifter had known what would happen when they came to retrieve his goods. Testing their loyalty in such a roundabout way was an annoyance. 

“35,000,” they retorted, haggling for no other reason than to be contrary. 

“Now, now, I’m offering you a very good deal here,” the Spider said, his amusement with the situation fading. “You’d do best to take it.”

Albireo looked at him, straightening to their full height. 

“35,000,” Albireo replied, not budging. Mouth moving as if on its own, they continued. “And a piece of information in return.”

The Spider paused. It was an intriguing proposition to him. 

“And what sort of information would this be?” He asked, steepling his hands together.

“Uldren Sov’s killer,” they replied, no hesitation. 

The Fallen sat forward. There were quite a few people who were very interested in that information and would pay quite a bit of Glimmer for it.

“Well, my dear, it seems you’re learning the value of information,” he said. “We have a deal.”

Albireo motioned to the camouflaged Cygnus. A pile of Glimmer appeared, transmatted by the Ghost. 

The Spider sat forward as Albireo approached his seat. They removed their helmet and leaned close to whisper into his ear. 

His full body, bellowing laughter echoed in the chamber. 

———

“Why did you tell him!?” Cygnus asked the moment they were safely back on the ship. 

Albireo dropped their helmet onto the pilot’s seat. Their normally glowing skin was now a pallid and dull color.

“I…” they said, struggling to form a coherent sentence. Suddenly, they felt weak and clammy. 

“Albireo?” Cygnus called to them, suddenly concerned. “Just… just sit down for a moment.”

The Guardian let their back hit the hull of the ship and slowly slid down. Their head thumped against their knees as they curled up as small as possible.

In the deep of space, there was no one but their Ghost to witness their tears. 

——— 

The duo’s return to the Tower was a sober one. Albireo felt drained of all emotion. All the progress they’d made since Uldren’s death seemed to be completely undone in that moment. 

Familiar faces greeted them as they walked through the Tower to the Annex, but it was like hearing them through a thick barrier. Vaguely, they were aware that Cygnus was covering for their unusual behavior. 

Each step felt like they were fighting against the tide. Again the sensation of not being completely in their own skin came back. In a haze, they passed through the familiar streets and down into the Annex. 

Drifter turned to greet them the moment Albireo stepped into his space.

“Well, well, hotshot, what brings you down here? Looking for a Gambit match?” He asked with a shark’s grin. His eyes glanced down at the Warlock’s clenched fists. The smile faded as he looked back up into their helmet.

“Yes,” Cygnus interrupted before Albireo could respond. It at least had enough sense to know not to just hand over the goods where anyone could see. “What bounties do you have?”

The Drifter hesitated for only a split second before rolling with it. 

“I’ve got just the thing for ya,” he said, swiping a data pad from the nearby table. 

————

Everything after that blurred together. Albireo made it through several Gambit matches before Cygnus pulled them away to turn in their completed bounties. Their raging emotions had calmed somewhat, but even still, all they wanted was to crawl into their pillow nest or punch more things. 

Drifter watched them, lightless eyes following the Warlock’s every move. He doled out their rewards for bounty completion with his usual banter despite not receiving any response. 

“Not bad, hotshot, you’ve got a real knack for taking out the bad guys,” he said, as Cygnus transmatted their earnings away. “But you were pretty sloppy today. Somethin’ on your mind?”

Albireo hesitated. They were partners, right? But showing weakness in front of anyone was terrifying. Would Drifter find them too weak to stand at his side?

“You can tell, ol’ Drifter,” he said, leaning close to the Warlock. “Tell ya what, let’s get some grub and have a chat.”

Albireo nodded numbly. They followed the man as he closed up shop, shooing away a team of Guardians who had come for a match. The far away feeling threatened to come back, but the Warlock forced themself to focus on Drifter’s voice as he rambled on about recent Gambit matches.

Most of the shops in the Tower bazaar were already closing up for the night as they made their way through the bazaar, but Drifter kept leading them further and further in. The further they went, the narrower the pathways became and it began to look more like residences. 

They’d already gone further into the winding paths than Albireo had ever explored when finally they stopped at a simple looking shop. The sign that hung outside called it the Aham-Curry complete with a carving for what might have been an Ahamkara in its heyday. The sign had faded and worn over the many years it must have been hanging their. 

A rush of aromatic spices hit their senses the moment Drifter opened the door. Confused, Albireo followed behind the man as he sidled up and spoke to the lone man behind the eatery’s counter. 

“Hey there, Amit,” Drifter greeted him, leaning on the counter. “Can I get two specials sent to my usual spot?”

The man, Amit, gave the rogue a stern look. His dark eyes briefly glanced over at the Warlock, but his focus remained on Drifter. 

“You going to pay your tab today?” He asked, unsubtly polishing the knife he’d been cleaning when they walked in. 

“Hey now, you know I’m good for it,” Drifter countered easily, holding up his hands. “I’ve got civilized company today. Don’t scare ‘em off.”

That seemed to placate the man as he put the knife down. He nodded his head at a set of stairs near the back of the shop. 

“Much obliged,” Drifter said, “C’mon, hotshot.”

Albireo followed after him, feeling Amit’s dark eyes boring into their back. With their helmet still on, there’s no way he could distinguish them from any other Guardian, but even so they felt judged by the heavy stare. Would this meeting be all over the Tower tomorrow?

The room at the top of the stairs was an open space littered with carpets and pillows. Ornate tapestries hung from the walls and ceilings, covering the lattice walls while still allowing in a slight breeze. Large palm plants dotted the room, offering even more cover.

Drifter picked his way over to a particular corner where the lattice met the wall. An abundance of tapestries and plants sheltered him from anyone looking in. He plopped himself down on a pillow and motioned them over. 

The dim light of a few hanging lanterns gave just enough illumination, but it felt intimate somehow. Uneasy, Albireo sat down across from the rogue. 

“We won’t be bothered here,” Drifter said, to Albireo’s surprise. Somehow they didn’t think he’d be comfortable anywhere except perhaps the Derelict. “Amit’ll make sure of that.”

Albireo relaxed just a fraction. If the ever guarded Drifter could say that, then they would believe it. 

They lifted their helmet off and set it aside. Their slender white braid of hair thumped against their chest dully as they unpinned it as well. Dragging a hand through their hair, they fluffed it back out from it’s flattened state.

Across from them, Drifter watched, the lamp light casting a dark shadow over his face. Albireo wondered how they must look to him with the dull sheen of their skin and the dark circles under their eyes. Would he question them?

The man turned his gaze away from them, looking off at one of the hanging lamps. Light reflected across his face, glittering shards of color. Albireo caught a glimpse of something broken in his eyes for just a second before he turned back. 

“I can tell somethin’s eating ya up,” he said, leaning forward. “The Tangled Shore didn’t treat you right.”

Albireo wondered how much he already knew. Had the Spider reported their interaction to him? Again annoyance flared. 

“Not a place I’m fond of,” Albireo replied, hunching in on themself. Drifter hesitated for a moment, face softening a fraction. 

“Listen, kid,” he started to say. His expression conflicted.

“ ‘M not a kid!” They snapped, defensive and hurt. Suddenly, they were a Kinderguardian again and it was Cayde-6 sitting across from them, stopping them from a particularly dangerous mission. 

But Drifter wasn’t Cayde, not even remotely close. Albireo flinched away from the memory. Cayde’s image returned to that of the rogue’s. His weary face creased into a frown. 

“Alright, alright,” he said, making vague placating motions with his hands. He swiped a hand through his hair and sighed. “I told ya, you can vent to ol’ Drifter.”

All the fight left the Warlock’s body. They’d been prepared a lecture or a reminder of their duty as a Guardian. They hadn’t been prepared for concern. Exhaustion settled around them like a mantle, heavy and stifling. 

A thousand thoughts swirled around in their brain. How could they possibly condense it into anything understandable?

Leaning back on their hands, Albireo gazed up at the ceiling. The lantern light scattered like shards of stardust across their face, their eyes. It’s prismatic colors were as fragmented as the Warlock’s thoughts. 

“I’m tired,” they said, finally settling on the two words that seemed to sum up all the thoughts. Everyday was like slogging through a thousand miles of Blight with Thrall scrabbling at their back. There was nothing left to give. 

A Void had been left behind where their heart should be. 

Drifter looked at them. That was the only way Albireo could think to put it. It was as if his gaze was no longer piercing through them or looking just beyond them. The look contained a deep understanding, as if he understood the deeper meaning.

He looked as if he’d been in the same place a hundred, no, a thousand times before. 

Drifter looked away first, toward the stairs they’d come up. His expression shifted back to the same easy-going smile he always wore. Footsteps echoed in the silence. 

An Exo appeared in the entranceway, plates of food balanced on his right arm and a metal carafe in his left hand. His black and orange exoskeleton was scratched and scarred down the left side of his face. Albireo caught a glimpse of a Hunter’s knife at the small of his hip when he placed down their food and the carafe down. His pale yellow eyes glanced briefly at the Warlock before he stood back up. 

“Amit wants to remind you to pay your tab,” he said, dryly. 

Drifter scoffed, already picking up his plate to dig in. 

“Tell ‘im he’ll get his payment,” he said, using a piece of flat bread to shovel some of the red curry into his mouth. 

The Exo looked on in disdain for a moment before leaving. 

Albireo had a feeling this wasn’t a dispute over a few unpaid meals, but such was the nature of Drifter’s dealings. Whatever the man did for the Drifter that required payment, Albireo was sure it wouldn’t be looked on fondly by the Vanguard. 

Drifter didn’t seem to care. He was relishing the food in front of him, red smeared on his lips. The Warlock looked down at their own food. 

A strong spicy scent wafted up from the plate. Chunks of chicken and vegetables in a bright red-orange curry sauce filled the plate, coating the pile of rice and the Naan bread. The scent was strong enough to burn their nose. 

Albireo looked down at the lone carafe of water. There weren’t any cups to accompany it. 

“ ‘S for you,” Drifter said between bites. Albireo looked at him quizzically, but he didn’t say anything else. 

Warily, Albireo very sensibly used the provided spoon to dig out a hearty bite of the curry and rice. Steam wafted from the spoon full as they brought it to their mouth. 

Pain flared on their tongue even as the delicious flavors of the chicken and spices pervaded their mouth. A flush suffused their face as they chewed. Fire spread through their body and they abandoned the food for a gulp of water straight from the carafe. 

Drifter laughed at their plight, unaffected by the dish’s spiciness. 

Tears pricked at Albireo’s eyes, but they picked the plate back up and kept eating, mingling the bread in as well. They felt tears slip down their face as they ate, savoring the heat and the flavors. They ate and the tears kept flowing. If they weren’t all from the stinging heat, no one else would know anyway.


	4. What We Fight For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drifter never makes things easy for Albireo.

An insistent beeping from their data pad woke Albireo from their deep meditation. Disoriented, they groped for the pad in the pile of pillows that made up their bed. Finally, they grasped it and blearily scrolled through their messages.

The new message indicator blinked at them. It had no subject and when they attempted to open it the message was encrypted. Albireo huffed and sat up. Another message from Aunor? The other messages had been from data chips not a direct message.

Looking around the room, they estimated it must be well after midnight. Moonlight and Traveler’s light bathed the walls in muted colors. The streets below their apartment were quiet save for the occasional Guardian’s shout. 

Cygnus rested peacefully on its pillow, an occasional mechanical whir coming from the Ghost. Albireo hated to wake it, but they weren’t much of a cryptograph themself. Gently, they scooped the Ghost into their hands. 

“Cyg, need some help,” they whispered, softly rousing it from slumber. 

Its bright blue eye came online, peering curiously up at its Guardian. 

“What is it, Al? It’s very late and we have morning patrol,” it said, drifting up from their palms and giving its shell a twirl. 

Picking up the datapad again, Albireo pointed to the message. The Ghost tilted its shell in curiosity before scanning the data pad. 

“Just a moment,” Cygnus said, the soft whirring picking up as he processed the message. “It’s a message from Drifter.”

Albireo flinched. What did he want this late? They hadn’t seen him since the night at the Aham-Curry. Though, that had been the Guardian’s own doing. Patrols and missions hadn’t kept them so busy that they couldn't have fit in a few gambit matches.

“He’s asking you to come to the Derelict,” Cygnus answered the unspoken question. “He says don’t ignore him.”

Well, they supposed their avoidance had been fairly obvious. With a sigh, Albireo stood up. So much for resting up before a long day of patrols. Cygnus transmatted the Guardian’s armor onto them.

“He’s given us the coordinates. Are you ready?” Cygnus asked. 

Grumbling, Albireo nodded. Drifter had better be prepared for a sulky reception if this was some kind of nonsense. 

In a flash, the two disappeared from the room, bound for the Derelict. 

_____

With an echoing clank, Albireo’s boots hit the metal grating of an unfamiliar part of Drifter’s ship. In front of them seemed to be an inactive transport gate down to the Haul and the catwalk around it split into three paths. No one greeted them on entry and all they could hear was the hum of machinery. Drifter was nowhere to be seen.

They waited a moment, expecting the Drifter to materialize at any second. Cygnus scanned the area around them, beeping quietly as he picked something up. 

“There’s a signal coming from this way,” it said, swaying to the right side path on the catwalk. A white marker popped up on the Warlock’s HUD. Albireo nodded and started forward into the gloomy passage. Cygnus disappeared in a flash, concealing itself. 

It seemed like a normal maintenance passage. Red light dimly lit the area, just enough to illuminate the path. Even so, as they approached the end of the passageway, the light faded into a cool blue until finally they stepped out of the passage. 

Though to Albireo’s eyes, they may as well have stepped onto a whole new planet. The area beyond the passage seemed more like one of the many caves they’d explored on Nessus or Venus. The strange alien plants had taken full root in the room, aided by the soft soil beneath their boots. 

In the back of the strange cave room, a single storage container illuminated the darkness. Cautiously, Albireo approached it. Who knew what else they would find?

Stepping into the container, the Warlock glanced around. Some tables had been shoved together into a makeshift work area. Guns and gun parts littered the tables in various states of togetherness. An old style data pad sat innocuously on one of the tables. 

Cygnus perked up upon seeing it. 

“Ah, this is where the signal came from. Just give me a sec,” it said, scanning the pad. 

Albireo nodded, stepping further into the room. Their gaze drifted down to the sleeping bag on a particular uncomfortable looking cot. Was this the Drifter’s room? Their hand smoothed over the sleeping bag before compulsively straightening it out so it wasn’t half falling off anymore. 

“You know we’re not here to pick after him,” Cygnus said, caught somewhere between amusement and exasperation. It’s Guardian sometimes acted very irrationally. 

Abashed, Albireo drew back. They swept back to the Ghost’s side as if nothing had happened. Their gaze wandered around the room. Several helmets were hung neatly on the wall, Cabal, Fallen, and even Vex. They wonder if they were trophies or if he had some use for them. 

From the ceiling, two lanterns hung casting a dim light over the makeshift room. They found them-self focusing on that detail. It just seemed so out of place, just like the ornate teapot. Little touches that showed a small glimpse into Drifter’s character.

“I’ve got it,” Cygnus said suddenly. Albireo started and turned away from the lanterns. “It’s a message for you.”

The data pad began to play a recording. Drifter’s voice filled the room. 

"As my new partner, couple things about me you should know; I've been pitting a lot of very bad people against some good ones. Could end up being trouble for the City and there's already been some collateral damage,” the recording said. Drifter’s voice was soft, a trace of regret smoothing the edges. "Hand to my heart, I regret anyone who takes a dirt nap on account'a me. But I didn’t survive by being indecisive."

"Through every age and era, Drifter's done what he had to. The Warlords and the Iron Lords taught me that the Light is no gift,” His recorded voice said, turning into a growl. “It brought hell to Earth, and when we begged to die, it said hell no."

Albireo had never thought of the Light that way before. It just… was. The Vanguard has always called it a gift. In their previous life, was this what they would have wanted? To be an eternal Guardian of Earth and Humanity?

"They say the Dark Age was untold suffering. I could tell you a lot. Maybe next time. Go find the other tapes. Yeah, I made you tapes.”

The recording ended in a mirthless chuckle. Drifter’s voice cut out and the ensuing silence weighed heavily. 

Drifter had been around since the Dark Age? Albireo couldn’t begin to imagine. They’d only been recently reborn in the grand scheme of the world. Compared to Drifter, their life span was merely the blink of his eye. 

“Well, that was… unexpected,” Cygnus said, finally breaking the silence. While it still hadn’t fully approved of Drifter as a partner, even it couldn’t deny what they’d heard. Albireo nodded slowly. 

“Any idea where the other tapes would be?” The Ghost asked, but only got a shrug in return. “We still have patrol in the morning. Let’s head back to- What are you doing?”

Albireo plopped down onto the makeshift bed. Their helmet was already off and resting on a nearby table. While it wasn’t the most comfortable, they’d slept on far worse before. 

“I’m tired and it’s his fault,” they replied as they rid themselves of their equipment.

“You don’t know where that’s been,” Cygnus groaned, as if Albireo had never slept on alien planets.

They shrugged again and laid back on the sleeping bag to meditate. 

“If his creepy Ghost comes in here…” Cygnus grumbled as it sulkily nestled itself into the Warlock’s neck. Albireo grunted in response.

——

The rhythmic sounds of a gun being assembled drew Albireo from their deep meditation. As each piece clicked into place, they could imagine Drifter’s deft hands working quickly and efficiently. As the last piece slid into place and the gun was set on the table, Albireo opened their eyes.

The room was still dimly lit, but a shadow now blocked some of the light. Their gaze turned to the figure sitting next to them. Drifter wasn’t wearing his normal green overcoat and armor. Instead, he was down to just the lighter green shirt he normally wore underneath. The muscles in his back and shoulders rippled as he picked up the next gun.

“Mornin’, hotshot. Have a good sleep?” Drifter asked without ever turning around.

“Had better. Your bed sucks,” Albireo replied as they sat up to stretch, back popping loudly. 

Drifter laughed, finally turning on the stool he’d been sitting on to face them. His smirk was a little lopsided, more genuine than his usual expression. 

“Could give a man the wrong idea, sleeping in his bed,” he said, voice softening into a rumble. There was something about his gaze that Albireo couldn’t interpret. 

“You called me here and I have early patrol,” Albireo said, reaching to grab their boots. They completely missed the bemused look that Drifter shot them in response. When they sat back up, his expression had gone back to normal.

“Oh, good, you’re up,” Cygnus’ voice said from beyond the container room. The Ghost zipped back in and tucked itself into Albireo’s neck. Another Ghost followed after, hovering near Drifter and watching Cygnus with it’s red eye. 

“He won't leave me alone,” Cygnus hissed against their ear. Albireo raised an eyebrow at the new Ghost. He drifted a bit closer, but the Guardian batted him away. All the while, Drifter laughed to himself, slapping his knee as if this was the funniest thing he’d ever seen.

“Get outta here,” he said to the Ghost. His Ghost gave him a petulant look before zipping out and away.

Albireo finished strapping back on their various armor bits. They grabbed the helmet from the table and stood to leave. Drifter watched them silently. 

For a moment, they hesitated, waiting for him to mention the recording, but the silence dragged on. A beep from their helmet indicated an incoming message. Undoubtedly, it would be their patrol schedule. Turning away, Albireo waved as they headed back out. 

They hadn’t taken more than a step when Drifter’s hands closed around their biceps. There hadn’t even been a sound when he moved, no scrape of the stool or rustling of clothes. Albireo froze as his breath whispered against their neck.

“Listen, hotshot, you been my crew for a while now,” he said, voice rumbling pleasantly in their ear. “And even before that we’ve done some good work together.”

His hands tightened around their arms. They felt his beard tickle against the shell of their ear. He was so close now, even through their armor they could feel his body heat. 

“Now, against my better judgement, I trust you. Just a little,” He said, his words carrying a weight to them. “But there’s a lot you ought to know if you’re gonna keep hanging with ol’ Drifter.”

He let go of their arms and slung his arm over their shoulders, pressing Albireo into his side. They looked up into his face and he grinned down at them. Warmth radiated along their body at each point of contact. 

“I’ve prepared a little survival guide for ya,” Drifter said, far too cocksure for Albireo’s liking. They didn’t need him to coddle them. “It’s from the ultimate prepper himself. That’s me.”

Albireo pulled far enough away to give him a skeptical look, but this only made the rogue laugh. He pulled his arm back from their shoulders and gave them a little shove forward. 

“Survival step one is get your ass to Europe,” he quipped. His arm drew back and Albireo wondered just what he was doing when it came down hard-

**SMACK**

Right against their backside. 

Both Lightbearers froze as the sound echoed in the chamber. Drifter’s hand hovered an inch from their backside, as if frozen in shock. Cygnus made a static noise of indignation. 

Neither of them moved. The seconds dragged on as equilibrium was sought. Finally, Albireo jolted away, taking one step and then another. Cygnus swayed in the air after them. 

Nothing was said as the Guardian and Ghost teleported away.

——

Even still, Albireo could feel a throbbing sensation where Drifter’s hand had collided with them. They plopped into the pilot’s chair of their ship, staring out into space. For its part, Cygnus had been ranting since the second they got on the ship. Not that Albireo was paying it much mind. It had mostly been insults directed at Drifter. 

Their whole body felt hot and light. Albireo squirmed in their seat. The ear that Drifter had grazed tingled. Their body reacted to the stimulus in ways it hadn’t in months. 

Surely, Drifter hadn’t meant it in such a way. It must have been accidental overstep of boundaries. Albireo couldn’t imagine the man letting anyone intimately close. They shoved their helmet on and ignored their body’s reaction. 

The message on their HUD displayed a request for patrols in the EDZ. Albireo paused and re-read the message. That seemed a little too… convenient. Drifter couldn’t have known their patrol route when they hadn’t even been given it yet.

“Heading to the EDZ,” they said, loud enough to interrupt Cygnus’ rant on Drifter’s many flaws. Albireo punched in the coordinates and let autopilot take over. 

“Wha… You’re not seriously going to look for those tapes, are you?” Cygnus asked, indignant. He whirred angrily, shell twisting in agitation. 

“Patrol,” Albireo replied, their curt answer brokering no argument. 

Silence followed afterwards. Finally, Cygnus drifted over and perched on Albireo’s head. 

“What a pair of creeps,” it said. A small laugh escaped the Guardian. 

——

The EDZ rarely ever changed. Fallen skittered about, watching from the shadows. The occasionally sound of gunfire echoed through the ruined buildings. Albireo crept up the stairs to Devrim’s lookout. The man turned to look at them as they cleared the climb up. 

“Hello, there, Guardian,” Devrim greeted them before turning back to his sniper sight. “Here for your patrol?”

Albireo came to stand by the window. They followed his line of sight to a group of Fallen milling about. Nothing unusual there. They looked over to the man. 

“Had some unusual activity earlier. Some fool causing a ruckus,” Devrim said, glancing over at them. “The Fallen chatter mentioned a human imposter wearing their armor.”

Albireo snorted. So Drifter hadn’t known about their patrol, but he was the reason they’d been called out there in the first place. A fool causing a ruckus indeed. The Fallen helmet that had been on his wall… The Guardian wondered how often he lurked in disguise. 

“I’ll take care of it,” Albireo said, wryly. 

“You know something?” Devrim asked, pulling back from the window and propping his sniper rifle against it. 

“Have an idea,” they replied, shrugging. They were fond of Devrim, but they didn't want to drag him into Drifter’s scheme. 

“Hm, so some Guardian funny-business, as Suraya would say. Well, I’ll give you all the info I have. The fool seems to have stirred up the Fallen all over the EDZ,” Devrim said, coming surprisingly close to the mark. Several markers popped up on Albireo’s radar. “Here are all the locations where the imposter was spotted.”

The Guardian scanned the map. Drifter had covered a lot of ground, but at least they had some idea now where to look. 

“The Fallen are still up in arms. Be careful out there,” Devrim cautioned as they turned to leave. Albireo gave a small nod before disappearing down the stairs.

——

It took a fair few bullets and more than a few hours, but Albireo finally had all the tapes secured. Drifter had been very… creative with each location. The Fallen had been the least of their troubles locating each one. 

Devrim seemed pleased enough with the results. The Fallen had drawn back into hiding, frightened of the new threat to their dens. There had been a time when Albireo might have felt some remorse for their deaths, but that naivety was long in their past.

Bidding farewell to Devrim, they returned to their ship. Their patrol results were sent back to the Vanguard with a mission debrief. Albireo glossed over some of the details, writing it off as a Kinderguardian on a dare. The Vanguard didn’t need to know of their dealings with Drifter. 

“You’re keeping a lot of secrets, Al,” Cygnus spoke up, hovering nearby. 

The Guardian turned to look at it. Removing their helmet, Albireo’s gaze drifted off to the side. True they were were keeping more secrets from the Vanguard, but…

“You didn’t care when it was… when it was him,” they said, voice just barely whispering the last bit. It still felt like someone was squeezing their heart. 

“That was him!” Cygnus argued, whirring loudly. “Drifter isn’t him. I don’t want you to…”

The Ghost dipped down before flying to them. From the set of its shell and the dim glow of its eye, it was obviously distraught.

“I don’t want you to get swindled by that rogue,” it mumbled, twirling its shell. The worry in the Ghost’s voice was palpable. 

Albireo reached out to cup Cygnus into their hands. They brought the Ghost close and pressed their face against its shell.

“That’s why I have you, Little Light,” they said, much to the Ghost chagrin. The annoyed sound Cygnus made had them laughing. 

“If he does anything to you…” Cygnus let its threat hang idle in the air. 

Albireo snorted, not finding the tiny robot very intimidating. They pulled back from the pseudo-hug. The Warlock pulled out the “tapes” and held them out to the Ghost. 

“Alright, fine,” it said, conceding to its Guardian. Cygnus scanned the data chips, compiling them in the order they’d been found. 

Settling back into the pilot’s seat, Albireo set the ship to keep orbit. The lights in the cabin dimmed as Cygnus began to play back the tapes. Drifter’s voice washed over them, his truths filling the silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last of my already finished chapters, so I'll most likely switch to posting biweekly on Saturdays.


	5. Mists of Memory *updated*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drifter laid bare pieces of his past and Albireo is drawn in, but attachment in this kind of life is a double edge sword.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoy Destiny, but please know this is in no way 100% timeline compliant. I'm sort of fudging around with the time line of certain events. 
> 
> For those who are visually inclined, I finally have a good ref for [Albireo](https://www.twitter.com/azuzuzuli/status/1131980090643034113?s=20)
> 
> EDIT: I posted this chapter pretty late for me after rushing to finish it. I wasn’t very happy with it so I’ve polished it up a bit.

Albireo woke to an unfamiliar sky. Dark grey clouds gathered above them. Tendrils of dark smoke slowly drifted up into the overcast sky. They sat up, finding themself in the broken and charred ruins of a village. 

Overhead a murder of crows squawked angrily. Albireo stood. This should have been alarming, but the Guardian felt only a deep calm. They took a step forward and then another and another. They made their way through the rubble. 

They came to the ruined village center. There stood a man in simple clothes, far different from the intricate City wear. His back was to them. His face was cast down. Surrounding him were a multitude of mounds of dirt. 

_Graves,_ Albireo thought, glancing to the shovel at his side. As they stood staring, the man began to turn until Albireo could see his face. 

The Drifter stared at them with his lightless eyes. Albireo took a step forward. His mouth moved though no sound left him. 

“What?” Albireo asked, their own voice a harsh, grating sound in their ears. The angry cries of the crows grew louder. 

“I..any..” Drifter said, eyes never leaving Albireo’s. 

They took another step. A shadow began to fall over the village, over them. 

“I can’t feel anything,” Drifter said, spreading his hands wide. The crows scattered into the sky. The shadow had now overtaken everything. 

Albireo looked up and up and up…

——

Albireo woke up gasping for breath. Their heart hammered loudly in their chest. The familiar dim light of their ship’s cabin greeted them. Already they felt the dream slipping away from them. The sight that had terrified them forgotten in moments. 

“Al?” Cygnus called out to them cautiously. It regard its Guardian, monitoring their elevated life signs. “What’s wrong?”

With a shaking hand, Albireo smoothed their sweat soaked bangs and sat up fully in the pilot’s chair. 

What had that been? A vision? No, a nightmare surely. Albireo was no stranger to visions, but this had been far different from any vision they’d had before. 

“I’m fine,” they said when Cygnus continued to prod. “How long was I…?”

“Asleep? An hour,” Cygnus answered, whirring thoughtfully. “I was surprised. Perhaps we should get Drifter to read you bedtime stories from now on.”

Albireo snorted. The idea of Drifter sitting at their bedside reading children’s stories was ridiculous. They remembered Cygnus playing the tapes and asking him to replay them, listening for vocal queues. Drifter knew how to spin a story. He was either a very good actor, or he’d been genuinely emoting. 

Even now, the Guardian still wasn’t sure which. The more they learned about the man; the less they felt they knew. Maybe they were looking for things that just weren’t there. Even now, with him laying bare bits of his past, they still weren’t fully trusting him 

_I can’t feel anything._ His words from the tapes and from their nightmare came back. The quiet anguish in his voice was an all to familiar feeling. 

_Maybe you just feel too much,_ Albireo thought, though who it was directed at, himself or them, they weren’t sure. 

Like white noise, their underlying feelings were a constant cacophony drowning and cancelling each other. They could only remain so serene because each overwhelming emotion could not overtake the other. It felt as if they were floating beneath the surface of a turbulent sea, cradled by the calmer depths. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Cygnus asked, its voice soothing. 

“Yes, just...” Albireo said, still somewhat dazed by their dream. The details were slipping away, but still that icy feeling of terror remained. “Give me a moment.”

Albireo relaxed back into the pilot’s seat. Their fingers flew over the controls, redirecting the ship back toward the Last City. 

———  
It wasn’t surprising that Drifter’s portion of Annex was dark when Albireo finally made it back to the Tower. It was annoying though as they’d have to track him down themself. He wanted them to hear those tapes so bad, but he couldn’t even stick around afterwards. 

With an annoyed huff, the Warlock turned back around and stormed up the stairway. The unease from their dream lingered and they needed to see him. Had it only been a dream? Finding him likely wouldn’t make it any clearer, but it would at least calm them somewhat. 

Cygnus kept at a distance, silently following after its Guardian. Whatever was bothering them, it knew that they needed a little space and Albireo was grateful for that. They hadn’t mentioned the dream to it, not wanting Cygnus to worry. 

A beam of light nearly blinded them as they passed by the hallway out into an old landing dock. Shielding their eyes, Albireo glanced down the hallway. There on the landing pad was a lone figure. At that distance, the person was little more than a dark outline, but the long coat and shoulder pads gave away their owner. 

Veering into the hallway, Albireo picked up pace. The figure in the distance didn’t even turn despite the amount of noise their boots were making against the metal. They bypassed the stairs and hopped over the railing, landing on the walkway below. 

Only then did he turn, giving them a two finger salute. His grin barely reached his eyes, a far cry from his usual. For a moment, Albireo saw him as he was in the dream, so empty, lightless. As they came closer, his expression tensed. His hand fell to his side. 

Albireo realized that they were still wearing their helmet. Taking it off, they let it fall to the ground. Cygnus would take care of it. As if that was what he was waiting for, he relaxed a fraction, shoulders loosening. 

“Ya found them all?” He asked, turning back to face out towards the City, but his gaze was on the horizon. 

Albireo stepped up beside him and looked up at him. The light of the fading sun fell across his face, illuminating his features and casting sharp shadows. Now that they knew his age, the deep creases in his features made sense. He hadn’t been revived that way. They were from the long years of his life, a lifetime of fighting, death, and sorrow. 

“Yes,” they replied simply. There was still so much that they didn’t know and they didn’t agree with everything he’d said. Still there was one thing… “Stop trying to use slang.”

He faltered, looking over at their completely serious face. Their expression didn’t change even as he started to laugh. 

“Alright, you’ve got me. Guess I can’t keep up with you, kids,” he said, shaking his head. He scratched his beard with a wry chuckle.

Albireo hummed an affirmative. It was strange how easy it was to bring their reserved humor out around the man. Perhaps because he almost goaded them into it in each interaction and they had just become accustomed to being more open around him. It was easier to relax their guard. 

“Ya know, there’s a lotta people comin’ for my Ghost,” he said, looking back out over the City and avoiding their gaze. “You’re stickin’ your neck out gettin’ so chummy with me.”

“You have my back,” they said, looking up at him again. Was that not what they had agreed on? How many times had they said it now? Drifter had their allegiance. It seemed like he was trying to convince them otherwise.

He chuckled, a low sound. A pleasant shiver ran down their spine.

“If that day comes, they’ll eat bullets from the both of us,” he said, voice low, rumbling in his chest. 

Albireo nodded, moving forward to sit at the edge of the landing pad. Lowering themself down, they let their legs hang over the side. Drifter followed after, seating himself with a little less grace than the Warlock. A quiet “oof” left him as he seated himself. 

There was one question burning in their mind. They wanted to know so much more, but something he’d said had sent a chill down their spine. 

“You think there will be another Collapse?” They asked, leaning forward and folding their hands together in their lap. 

“I _know_ there will be,” he said, grim. He folded his arms, closing himself off. He didn’t even glance at them. “When that day comes, I want ya to come with me.”

Albireo looked to him. Dread gripped them. The last person with that request had ended up dead. A flash of the graves from their dream ran through their mind. The shadow falling over the village, over them. Their breath caught in their throat. 

Somehow… they didn't think they’d be able to go with him. Could they truly abandon Humanity to such a fate? But… what had Humanity ever done for them? Why did they need to protect them? Now more than ever, they struggled to understand their own feelings. Were they choosing to fight for Humanity by their own will? 

“C’mon, kid,” Drifter said, voice low and coaxing. Now he turned to look at them. His eyes were so dark, but for the first time, Albireo realized that they were a deep blue color. He was so close to them they could feel the heat from this body. “Humanity’s done for.”

“Everything dies,” Albireo said, trying to be reasonable, but their reasons to keep fighting were so few. “Even us.”

He shook his head. The heavy lines around his eyes deepened with his frown. 

“Doesn’t mean you gotta die for them. How many of ‘em even give a hoot about little ol’ you?” He argued, his fingers were clenched tight into his arms. “You’re just lyin’ to yourself if you think otherwise. Forget about ‘em.”

Albireo looked down at their own hands. They sat so neatly folded, but a faint tremble betrayed them. 

“Haven’t you said it yourself? I’m the _Chosen One,_ ” they said, wryly. Hadn’t the Traveler chosen them during the Red War? Had it not led them to its Shard? So many seemed to expect miracles from them time and again. And yet, hadn’t they provided those miracles? 

Drifter slammed a hand down between them, leaning on it to tower over the Guardian. Not for the first time, Albireo felt the disparity of their heights. They had gone toe to toe with more than a few Guardians bigger than them, but somehow Drifter was difference. Perhaps it was his lifespan they felt, the burden of his time overshadowing their naivety.

“Dammit, kid! There’s a million other Guardians out there,” he said, vehemently. His breath ghosted over their face, rustling their bangs. A furious expression contorted his face. “Any one of them can be that damn ball’s Chosen One.”

Annoyance sparked in their gut. He was right. It didn’t have to be them. But even though he was acting concerned about them, he continued to call them a child. Had he ever called them by name?

“Maybe,” they said, petulant. Their fingers were digging into their gloves. The bones in their hands creaked under the pressure. “But even you’re no different.”

“What?” he said, drawing back from them. 

“Kid, hotshot, Hero, Chosen One - you say everything but my name,” they said, voice wavering. Had it really been bothering them so much? Couldn’t he see them as the person that they were? His words fed a need in them, but they lacked substance. “How are you different?”

They longed to hear Cayde’s voice calling out to them. In their moments alone, hearing him say their name had been intoxicating. To him, Albireo had been his friend, his lover, not some Chose One. The problem with being placed on a pedestal was the terrible loneliness of it. Albireo had felt it all too clearly since his death.

“Shit, I…” Drifter trailed off, running a hand over this face and scruffing his beard. There was something pained and jagged in his voice. “Listen, in this kinda life, gettin’ too attached is a bad idea, especially gettin’ attached to me. I don’t want that for ya.”

Building an invisible wall between them, that was something Albireo could understand, but he had asked them for their trust. That couldn’t be bought with empty promises. Albireo brought their weary gaze up. His expression wavered, caught in an internal war. Just who was it bad for, him or them? They grasped his outercoat in their hand. He looked down at it and then back to them. 

“Say it,” they demanded, furious, voice rasping. More than anything, in that moment, Albireo wanted to be more than just some Guardian to the man. He would acknowledge them as a person. The Warlock wasn’t sure what they would do if he didn’t. 

Drifter cupped the hand on his jacket with his own and pried their fingers from the fabric. He didn’t let go as he stared Albireo down. The darkness of the night had crept in, creating even harsher shadows in this face. He seemed sad and distant, a wistful look on his face. 

“Albireo,” he said, soft and low, rumbling from his chest like rolling thunder in the distance. His eyes were dark, the blue overtaken by deep shadows. 

Again they were so close to him. Albireo’s heart rate picked up, heat flooding their body. Their heart twisted with longing, but that couldn’t be right. Longing shouldn’t be an emotion they associated with Drifter. 

He was giving them an inscrutable look. Their hand was still held in his. It fit so neatly between his larger hands. Another hand had held it just the same. It could pull them even closer...

“No,” Albireo said, firmly, coldly. It was an answer to a rising unwanted realization. A realization that perhaps they’d been seeking to fill another void. 

Drifter’s expression shuttered, becoming inscrutable. A small bitter smile quirked the corner of his lips. His hand released theirs.

“Doesn’t seem right, yeah?” he said, attempting to go back to his usual self. He looked over, out into the night sky. 

Albireo nodded, not able to trust themself to speak. It was better to shut this feeling down, better to not get attached. Like Drifter had said, it was a dangerous life. They should have learned that lesson already. 

Better to not get attached emotionally. That was what he meant. Had he recognized it before they had? What a fool they’d been this whole time. 

His gaze rested heavy on them. A gloved hand tipped their chin up until they had to look him in the face. 

“C’mon, none of that,” he said, a disapproving frown on his face. His thumb brushed the edge of their bottom lip slightly. “Eyes up, starlight.”

Heart hammering in their chest, Albireo let out a shaky sigh. Drifter let his hand fall back down. Hefting himself up from the ledge, he held his hand out to help Albireo up as well. With shaking hands, they accepted his help up. 

Their hands stayed locked as they stood gazing at the other. To Albireo, the distance between felt like cold dead space. Finally, Drifter pulled his hand free. 

“Alright, enough heart to hearts,” he said, turning away and scratching the back of his head. “I got some… stuff to do.”

Albireo nodded, despite him not being able to see it. 

“I’ll see ya around, starlight,” Drifter said, sauntering back toward the Annex entrance. 

Alone now, Albireo clenched their fists. They wanted to run after him and the comfort of another human. With a deep breath, they stiffly made their way off the landing dock. All they needed was some rest. 

“Al,” Cygnus mumbled sadly as they neared his post near the stairwell. 

“Let’s go home,” Albireo said, glancing up the stairs, but Drifter was already out of sight.


	6. Lost Horizons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit to the Nine’s emissary offers a distraction, but Albireo learns some unsettling truths about Drifter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, hey, it’s been a while! It’s been a busy month, but I hope you enjoy this chapter.

The mortification of Albireo’s revelation followed them even days after their conversation with the Drifter. That they held some affection for the man that went beyond simple partnership filled them with shame. 

It was the height of selfishness. They’d put Drifter into an uncomfortable situation after he’d offered them a purely platonic partnership. Using his offer, they’d sought to fill the void that Cayde had left behind.

They analyzed their many interactions with the man. He’d drawn them in even from the beginning. Albireo never would have strayed from Cayde’s side, but in another time, it well could have been Drifter that they crossed paths with first. 

He drew out a side of them that only Cayde had. A side that was more human, buried beneath the duties of a Guardian and Hero. He ignited a spark hidden deep inside. 

In the beginning, the world around them had seemed so wondrous. A childlike wonder had kept them forging ahead. But by the time they defeated Crota, that wonder had already begun to fade. Slowly, they’d pulled back into themself, becoming more reserved, less expressive. Zavala and Ikora had seen it as them maturing as a Guardian, but Cayde had reached out to them, pulled them from the darkness. He had seen something no one else had, a fading light in their gaze.

How could those who had lived so long do it - fight, kill, die, and live again? How did they face the Darkness head on? Cayde hadn’t been able to give them any real answers, but he taught them how to roll with the punches and harden themself to the pain. He had been their candle in the dark. 

And his Light had been taken from them. 

Now Drifter offered them a different sort of guidance. Rather than a light to guide them, a frayed red string had been handed to them. If they followed it, what would they find?

Certainly, it wouldn’t lead to Drifter's affections. Cayde had been receptive to their overtures of affection, as clumsy as they had been, but Albireo was no longer that naive Kinderguardian. And Drifter was certainly _not_ Cayde.

But even still, that need for affection lingered, the desire to _please._

_”So eager to please.”_

Remembering his words elicited an annoyed groan from the Warlock. 

“Al?” Cygnus said, perking up from its perch by the window. It’s hopeful voice only made the emotional turmoil roiling inside of them worse. 

It had been trying so hard for the last several days to get them out of the apartment. The patrol orders had kept coming in, ignored by the Guardian. Cygnus was the one who had to put in a request for temporary leave and deal with Ikora’s questioning. 

Albireo felt guilty, but they just didn’t want to deal with it. Cygnus always nagged at them to rest, so this should be a good thing. They supposed he didn’t mean for them to wallow in a pile of pillows and blankets rather than actually looking after their health. 

They groaned again.

“Why don’t you come over here?” It asked, kindly. Albireo could imagine its white shell gleaming brightly in the sunlight as it soaked up the warmth. How could Drifter think that Cygnus wasn’t trustworthy? 

The thought of the man had them burrowing back down further. 

“Come on, Alllll,” Cygnus whined, finally breaking from its gentle cajoling. 

“Albireo, get up right now!” It demanded, sounding much sterner than its small stature should allow. Maybe Drifter was a little right about Ghosts.

The Warlock pulled the covers up higher. There was no point in getting up. The world would continue to exist without one Guardian. Even if that Guardian was _The_ Guardian.

“Fine then,” it said. For a moment, that seemed to be it, until Albireo felt something wiggling into the blankets with them. A blue light lit the darkness within the cocoon of blankets. “Well, this is cozy.”

Albireo grunted an affirmative. 

Cygnus’ eye flickered mischievously before the blankets were yanked off as it rocketed upwards. Sunlight blinded the vulnerable Guardian. Albireo covered their eyes and cringed away.

Pleased with itself, Cygnus shook the blankets free and let them fall down to the ground, far away from its Guardian.

Defeated, Albireo stared up at the little drone and sighed. Cygnus stared back. 

“Eyes up, Guardian,” it chirped. 

A colorful pillow flew at it and smacked harmlessly off of the wall. 

——— 

“Today we have a patrol on Nessus and Ikora will also want an update on how you’re doing,” Cygnus chatted amicably as it floated along behind Albireo. For their part, the Guardian was only vaguely paying attention. 

They studiously were ignoring the fact that several Guardians were looking at them. It could be their imagination, of course, but it seemed like there were whispers following behind their back. Albireo rarely let gossip hurt them, but even they felt annoyed by the constant scrutiny. 

Being a “Hero” seemed to come with a lack of privacy. 

Albireo veered into the hanger hallway, out of sight of the Tower proper. Cygnus could have just transmatted them to their ship, but instead, it had cajoled them into walking the whole way. 

“Guardian,” a wavering voice greeted them from the darkness as they reached the bottom of the stairs. Bright yellow eyes stared at them from the dim hallway. Albireo slowed to a halt as the enigmatic servant of the Nine emerged from the shadows. 

Xur twitched and wrung his hands together as he hobbled in their direction. The Guardian couldn’t remember ever seeing him leave his spot on his weekly visits. Now he was approaching them, completely outside of that time. 

“I have… an invitation for you…” he said haltingly. His black gloved hand reached into his coat and pulled out a smooth black data chip, with a broken blue circle on it, the symbol of the Nine. “It is from… the Nine.”

He held out the data chip, wavering where he stood. Curious, Albireo took the data chip from him. Turning it over in their hand, nothing unusual stood out. It was a normal datachip. 

Albireo hadn’t seen the Nine in quite some time. What could they possibly want with them? They looked back up to ask Xur, but the hallway was empty. 

“Where did he go?” Cygnus muttered, echoing Albireo’s confusion. The Guardian shrugged. No one had ever seen him come or go, no matter how long they watched him. 

They held out the data chip for the Ghost to scan. Warily, Cygnus scanned the object and its contents. 

“They want us to… collect samples?” It asked, confused by the message on the chip. “They want samples of Cabal, Fallen, and Taken.”

Well, they were headed out to patrol anyway. A little side of sample collecting wouldn’t put them out of their way. Tucking the data chip away, Albireo shrugged. Whatever the case, it was at least something to distract them.  
______

“This is disgusting,” Cygnus said as it transmitted the final sample to their ship. Albireo looked at it, though it couldn’t see their raised eyebrow. It hadn’t been the one to actually collect the samples. The Guardian had been left with that particular honor. 

Albireo tossed the gloves they’d been using to gather samples away. They’d never been happier to find a blue engram than when they’d realised Fallen viscera was about to ruin their good armor. Their Ophidian Aspects materialized and covered up their exposed arms. 

Thanks,” they said to their Ghost. The corpse of the Taken Phalanx they’d been dissecting faded away with a crackle of lightning. Sparks danced across Albireo’s hands. 

“Yeah, let’s not do that again,” Cygnus said, sounding as queasy as an inorganic floating orb could get. 

The two stood in the waning light of Nessus, the ominous figure of the Leviathan looming overhead. A beat of silence fell between them. 

“Now what?” Cygnus asked, looking around as if Xur would reappear. 

Albireo pulled out the data chip. It hadn’t changed or anything. Still, Cygnus scanned it. For a moment, the Ghost didn’t move, body frozen in midair. Concerned, they reached out to touch it, when Cygnus suddenly bobbed in the air. 

“Um,” it said, sounding a bit dazed. “I fed it the data from the samples and it gave me coordinates.”

Concerned, Albireo cupped their hands around the Ghost and let it rest in their palms. It sank into their hands with a relieved whirr. 

“I’m fine,” it said, reassuring its Guardian. To prove its point, the Ghost zipped out of their hands. Albireo watched it carefully, but Cygnus never faltered as it orbited around their head. 

“Come on, let’s see what the Nine want,” Cygnus said, drifting at eye level in front of them. At Albireo’s nod the two of them transmatted back to the ship. 

Plugging in the coordinates, Cygnus set the ship in motion. Albireo dropped into the pilot's seat. Nessus shrank behind them as the jumpship swerved, building momentum to jump to the coordinates. Space bent around them as the ship picked up speed and then became a stream of incomprehensible colors. 

This had been the most disconcerting moment for them for the longest time as a Kinderguardian. Being unable to determine their surroundings had set them on edge. Now, they relaxed back into their seat. 

“Hm, it’s taking us back close to Earth,” Cygnus said as it watched the ships controls. Albireo looked over at the Ghost. “What could be out there?”

Knowing the Nine, it could be anything. They seemed to have their own strange realm. A blank white world that they sometimes allowed the Guardians to enter for Trials. Perhaps, they would be invited in again?

Albireo closed their eyes. Cygnus would let them know once they reached their destination.  
_____

When Albireo opened their eyes next, the ship had come to a stop. Outside their ship, the Derelict and its Haul loomed. Their heart hammered in their chest at the sight. 

“Cygnus?” Albireo called to their Ghost, unable to tear their gaze from the Haul. Silence met them. 

With great effort, they looked away. The Ghost floated silently over the console. It turned to look at them, eerily silent. 

“Wha-” Albireo started to say, but the familiar feeling and light of transmat cut them off. Cygnus disappeared from view and when they could see again, they were in the Derelict. 

The dark empty hanger that was usually used for Gambit transmat was dead silent. In front of Albireo, the warp gate in front of them was active, swirling with blue light. 

Again, Albireo felt the pull toward the Haul. They tried to fight it, concerned for their Ghost, but their feet carried them forward. 

Stomach lurching, they stepped into the warp gate. Wind whistled in their ears as they sped toward the Haul. Just when they would touch the mist surrounding it, white light blinded them. 

Their feet touched solid ground before their vision cleared. Stumbling, Albireo blinked away the dancing spots in their eyes. As it cleared, they found the sterile white landscape coming into view. 

_The Nine Realms._

Their earlier thought became reality. Slowly, the Guardian made their way from the white stone shelter they had appeared under. A clear blue sky and brilliant sun greeted them as they stepped from the shadows. The pure white plane should have been blinding, but there was an almost dull, lifeless sheen to it. 

Grimly, Albireo marched forward. This new plane was different from the one they’d seen after Trial of the Nine matches. No emissary greeted them, nor was there a spire to climb. 

The same pull that had drawn them to the Haul, now pulled them toward the white monolith. Albireo could understand now what Xur meant when he said that his will was not his own. Another will seemed to be pushing them forward. 

_But you could stop._

Albireo’s lips pressed into a thin line. The distance between them and the triangle seemed to waver, seeming closer one moment and further the next. Was it a trick of the strange white plane?

_It’s your own curiosity that drives you._

A wide pit opened up before them. The Triangle now floated above them. Disoriented, Albireo stopped on the precipice. Below them now lay a miasma of writhing darkness. 

_What will you do?_

Staring down into the whirlpool of dark energy below, Albireo took a steadying breath. 

And then they leapt forward. 

_____

The white world around them washed away into a soft blue. Water lapped at their boots as Albireo materialized into the new plane. They had been here before. The emissary had brought the Guardian here after their hard won victories in Trials.  
But yet again there was no emissary to greet them. 

They stepped forward, walking through the endless room. The air around them glittered with what appeared to be thousands of stars floating aimlessly. 

**We stand at the precipice of history.**

Albireo whirled around. This time, the voice was not their own thoughts. 

Behind them was only more of the endless blue void. 

**What you do here changes the cosmic balance forever.**

The emissary’s voice came from nowhere and everywhere at once. Spinning around, the Warlock tried to locate them, but there was no one else. 

**You have made allies of dangerous beings. Gods and god pretenders.**

Albireo reached for their handcannon, only to realize it wasn’t there. They tried to call another weapon to hand, but nothing appeared. Not even the Hunter's blade they kept concealed remained. 

**How long before your company involves you in something that you can’t come back from?**

A shiver raced down the Warlock’s spine. Spinning around again, they came face to face with the emissary. Her pupiless blue eyes stared blankly at them. Her lips did not move, but her words filled the air around them. 

**Those I serve have so much to learn from you. You are their greatest curiosity. The agent on whom all fates converge.**

Albireo took a step back, scowling. _I didn’t ask for such a responsibility,_ they wanted to say, but their lips seemed firmly sealed. 

The emissary still stared blankly, floating above the water like a statue. Only the black wisps of her cloak danced through the air. 

**But it is your destiny to bear this fate. And now the Dredgen’s fate converges on yours.**

Hands clenched, the Guardian fought not to resort to violence. That the emissary could listen in on their thoughts disturbed them. The emissary didn’t seem to notice, or care, about their emotional turmoil. 

**The Dredgen presents a special prize to the Nine. He is an anomaly. An elemental balance. A grand experiment.**

The emissary kept speaking, but Albireo had lost the thread of her monologue. Who was the Dredgen that she spoke of? Yor had been dead for many years and his followers were hardly someone they kept company with. 

Now the emissary moved, she touched Albireo’s face in what might have been a loving caress, but the hand that touched their cheek was as cold as ice. 

**We remember his Trial.**

Albireo could hardly breath as the world around the warped. The emissary was gone, along with the endless blue void. Instead, Albireo now stood again in the familiar storage room aboard the Derelict. 

And they weren’t alone. 

The Drifter and an unknown man sat at the beaten wooden table, cards littering the space between them. Neither seemed to notice the Warlock now standing in the room. Their conversation continued on without missing a beat. It made little sense to the Warlock. 

Albireo struggled to get closer, but an invisible force kept them locked in place. When the man leapt to his feet and pulled out Thorn, the Guardian raged harder against their bonds. Fear welled up. Would they have to witness the death of another person they called partner?

But Drifter seemed to have an ace up his sleeve. With a flick of his wrist, a mote of Darkness appeared in his hand. The unearthly howl of a Taken split the air. It was just like when he’d given the Malfeasance.

With grim satisfaction, Albireo watched as the summoned Taken Captain sent the stranger flying over the railing and into the dark depths of the ship. They fought to move again, but still their body was rooted to the spot. The Taken Captain turned on Drifter now, but in a brilliant flash of light, it snapped out of this plane. 

In its place, the emissary now faced the Drifter. Her face stared impassively down at the man as he gazed up at her. 

**Dredgen.**

Albireo started. The title didn’t seem to phase Drifter. His lips twisted into a wry smirk. 

“Nah, not anymore,” he said, flippant. “It’s Drifter now.”

Drifter was a Dredgen? Or had been one? He’d mentioned being in a crew with some Shadows of Yor, but not that he’d gone so far as to adopt the title of Dredgen. Albireo struggled to remember his exact words. He hadn’t mentioned going by the title, but he’d been calling Gambit regulars by that title for some time. That’s right, he’d tried to give them that title when they’d been active in Gambit while hunting down Uldren.

Everything passed in a blur as the Derelict rocked as if it had been struck. Albireo tried to reach out to Drifter, but the world spun around them. The cold void of space closed around them as they found themself looking at the Derelict and the Haul behind it. 

_The Haul came from the Nine,_ Albireo realized as they were swept away, back to the blue void. 

With a heaving breath, Albireo doubled over, their body freed from the oppressive force that had kept them in place. When they looked back up, the emissary now started down at them from the horizon, her giant figure now blocking out the void sky. 

**We wish for you to understand what we understand.**

_I don’t think I understand anything._ Albireo thought.

**In time, you will.**  
_____

With a gasp, Albireo sat up in the pilot’s seat of their jumpship. Next to them, hovering over the console, Cygnus turned to them. 

“Al?,” it inquired, concerned. 

Albireo glanced around the cockpit, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. Through the front window of the ship, they could see the Derelict floating innocuously. They looked over at their Ghost. 

“How long was I gone?” they asked, voice rough. 

The Ghost whirled its shell. 

“You haven’t left. We just arrived at the Derelict a moment ago,” it said, curious and concerned. 

“I see,” Albireo said, slowly sinking back into the pilot’s seat. 

So it had been a vision? Had the Nine always been capable of such a thing? 

“Take us back to the Tower,” they said, clenching their fist. They had a lot of questions for Drifter.


End file.
